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“Ye run along and do what ye must do,” Saoirse urged. “Daenae mind me. I shall be quite happy.”
Mary smiled. “I’m pleased to hear it.” She lightly touched Saoirse’s cheek. “And aye, I do believe there are some roses comin’ back into these cheeks of yers. Ye’d best linger in the rose gardens, just to be sure.”
“I will.” Saoirse laughed, watching contentedly as Mary rushed away.
* * *
Noah stopped on the eastern side of the Castle and leaned against the old stone wall as the sun rose higher into a clear blue sky. Sunrise had already passed him by. He’d been up all night contemplating his thoughts and feelings for Saoirse, coming to a very simple conclusion—he cared for her and there was nothing he could say or do that would change his mind or heart.
Although he still wasn’t entirely certain of the depth of his admiration for her, he knew he couldn’t continue in the same brutish manner. He had to do something to remedy his plight, just as Scott kept saying. The longing to see her, the pain in his heart of knowing he hurt her; it was all too much for him to bear. And while he knew Scott would gloat about being right, Noah knew deep down that he had to listen to his friend or lose any chance of a happy life with Saoirse.
“’Tis worse than bein’ drunk,” he mumbled, feeling hazy from the lack of sleep.
He glanced down at the bouquet of flowers in his hand, and every endless minute he’d been awake seemed worth it. After spending the entire night scouring the nearby fields and woodlands for wildflowers, he’d managed to collect an obscenely large arrangement of blooms. Saoirse was sure to love them. At least, he hoped so.
Only once the sun had crashed over the forest in the distance did Noah turn and make his way into the courtyard. His mind swam with all the ways he was going to lure Saoirse out to him. Although many of his ideas centered around him groveling by her door, he couldn’t help but wonder if she would even be in there.
“M’Laird, ye’re up mighty early this mornin’.” Mary’s voice jarred him from his scheming.
Blinking away the sleep in his eyes, Noah glanced over his shoulder to find the old woman hurrying over. A dark smudge ran across Mary’s nose and cheek, giving him the impression that she’d been in the middle of cleaning something.
Nearing him, Mary’s eyes widened at the sight of the flowers in his hand. “Are ye… decoratin’ yer chamber, M’Laird?”
“Pardon?” Noah frowned. “Och, I see. Nay, these are… for another purpose. Say… ye and Saoirse have gotten close since she came here, have ye nae?” He spied a perfect accomplice for his vague plan.
“Thick as thieves.” Mary dusted her hands on her apron. “Poor lass doesnae have a friend in the world here, so I thought I would fill that role. Glad to do it, an’ all. She’s a fine lass.”
“And has she said anythin’ about me?” Noah inched closer to Mary, aware that he likely seemed mad.
His heart pounded in his chest as he wondered if there was anything he could learn from Mary. After all, it was Mary who came to tell him last night Saoirse wasn’t coming down. It was Mary who seemed to know Saoirse’s secrets. And it was Mary who seemed to know where Saoirse hid herself away.
“Aye.” Mary smiled. “A great many things.”
Straightening up, Noah struggled to hide his nervous anticipation. “Such as? Is there anythin’ good?”
He knew Mary wouldn’t lie to spare his pride, and he needed to know just how much of a challenge he was about to face.
“Well, she’s nae very fond of ye, but that shouldnae come as any surprise,” Mary replied.
Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “Nay, that’s a given.”
“But the lass still wants to love ye,” Mary finally blurted out. “She has the biggest heart of anyone I’ve met and that’s sayin’ somethin’, which is why I’ll defend her nay matter what. She doesnae deserve to be treated like a common lover of yers or Scott’s.”
“That is nae my intention,” Noah assured. “I’ve decided to prove myself to her. Ye see, I find her on my mind at every wakin’ moment. I need her, and I daenae need anythin’ else. So, if there is somethin’ ye ken that will help me get into her good graces, I’d be most grateful.”
Noah watched as Mary pressed her lips together, clearly thinking the request through.
“Ye care for her, then?” Mary asked at last, flashing him a wary look.
“Aye, that much I can attest to,” Noah replied.
“Is that why ye have that enormous bunch of flowers? Are ye plannin’ to give those to her?” Mary tipped her head to the bouquet in Noah’s hand, staring at them strangely.
Noah puffed out his chest. “I spent all night huntin’ for them.”
“Well, ye’ll nae get very far wit’ those,” Mary tutted. “Ye might as well be givin’ Saoirse a bow and a quiver of arrows.”
Deflated, Noah glanced to the flowers in his hand. “What’s wrong wit’ the flowers?”
